Lost and Found
by A Muffin with a Mission
Summary: Harry always felt that people demanded more of him than he could give, and the more he gave, the more they wanted from him. At this rate, there wouldn't be anything left. So what if someone else wanted something from him, it wasn't anything different. At least this time he was getting something in return. Challenge from The Hazel-eyed bookworm.
1. Chapter 1

**This was started because of a challenge from The Hazel-eyed bookworm. Thanks for my very first challenge! I look forward to continuing this in the future. (PS. For those who have read A Missing Sword, this is one of the fics I plan to work on while that is on Hiatus.)**

**This first chapter was made with the help of said Bookworm, thanks for all of the inspiration!**

**This is pretty fun to write, and it's good to get some variety once in a while. So enjoy! XD**

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><p>The events leading Harry to his position in Dumbledore's office were much different than the usual ones. Rather than the actions of one Draco Malfoy and his goons, or the antics of some other villainous persona against his own person, there was no one to blame but himself.<p>

It was his own decision to break into The Department of Mysteries, all because he couldn't tell the difference between his own thoughts and those of that poisonous snake, Voldemort. It was SO STUPID. If it weren't for him, his only family member would be still alive. After surviving all of those years on the run from the Ministry, the dementors, and almost everyone else, his Godfather was dead because of his stupid mistake.

The face his Godfather made when falling through would haunt him for the rest of his life, no doubt. The utter fear and shock as he fell backwards towards the dark stone arch looming forebodingly in the background like the hangman's noose ready to snatch its victim away.

He didn't know how what was on the other side, but he could only hope that it was better than what he left behind.

But the fight between Dumbledore and Voldemort had been utter agony. The feeling of being forcefully possessed, the attempt to control him entire time they fought. Even through the consuming pain, he could feel some kind of sick pleasure out of seeing Voldemorts pain. He couldn't possess him. That was good. He was also miserable and alone. Not good. But maybe he deserved it after all of the mistakes he had made over the course of his short life. Now the knowledge that nothing would change? The thought that his godfather, his parents- their deaths. The thought that they might not mean anything? That was terrifying. If his parents and godfather, some of the best wizards of their generation, the thought that their deaths were all for nothing is terrifying. If they couldn't defeat the dark wizard hell-bent on destroying the world, what chance did he have? Not a snowball's chance in hell.

If he was- If he was supposed to die in this war, what could he actually accomplish with it? What would he be able to do? Would it just be throwing his life away, with no actual accomplishment?

Leaning back into the chair, feeling like the world was resting on his shaking and bent shoulders, he couldn't help but ask, "Why?" his voice broke on the single word.

"Why me?! Why couldn't it be anyone else?! Out of all the people in the world, all of the people HE has wronged and hasn't, what makes me the one that has to fight him?! Why not Hermione, the smartest witch in the school?! Why not you?! Why can't you do it?! How many more people that I care about have to die for Voldemort to finally lose?! Why? Why?...Why?"

Dumbledore looked torn, there was nothing he could say to those completely true words. Harry shouldn't have to fight; Children weren't supposed to. They shouldn't have to grow up hated and alone, to have to face the expectations of countless others, all based on the single action of another that ended up defining his entire life up to this point. Why?

But he knew why. Life wasn't fair, and there really was no one else but him that could do it. It was fate. And even he couldn't deny fate its wants and desires. It had a nasty way of getting what it wanted, in the end.

Leaning across the table, he put his hands on the trembling boy opposite him's shoulders, rubbing soothingly with his thumbs, "You're right. You shouldn't have to go through this, to experience all of this so young. No one of any age should have to go through what you have, and many wouldn't have survived to this point." He could see Harry's teary eyes glancing up through disheveled bangs, glinting a light yellow green, contrary to their normal shade of emerald.

"But- it has to be you. As much as I wish it was someone else, as much as I wish that I could take that horrible burden from you. I cannot. It is not my place. One cannot go against the hand of fate, lest they be crushed under the weight of change. And the Wizarding World, my boy, "is not strong enough for change."

A calculating look came upon him, "But, young Harry one day you might be."

Harry felt no pride, there was nothing that could save him and others from his own mistakes. He didn't want to focus on his own guilt, the feeling he felt that this could have been avoided had he been given more information, that he hadn't gone in locked out of the secrets about himself. He couldn't contain that feeling of rage at the rest of the world, for doing this to him. For people for being so horrible, for being so weak. The incensed need for revenge on that bloody bitch Bellatrix Lestrange. He could have killed her, he had had her in his power, only his own feeling of mercy that saved her wretched life. The whispers of his own guilt and underlying anger fueled this hatred. He wanted to live. He wanted the whole Wizarding World to figure it out without him. But most of all, he wanted the hag to pay in blood.

"Dumbledore," he whispered through his teeth garnering the old man's attention from his own thoughts, "I want the bitch that made all of this happen to pay. I want her to die. Painfully, choking on her own blood. I want her to pay."

Dumbledore looked askance at this formerly unseen behavior by his student, "Harry, I understand that you are upset-"

Here he was cut off, "UPSET?! UPSET?! I AM ABSOLUTELY LIVID!" breathing hard he ranted "She took away one of the last people that was my family! She took away any kind of future I had with him!" He grit his teeth so hard that he bit his tongue, and sat there in the chair, hands gripping the armrests too hard, and breathing fast and deep.

"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man, only monsters feel no anger; no regret. This pain is part of being human-" No doubt the Headmaster would have had further to say on the issue, likely some inspirational quote on the durability of the human spirit, or the supposed "power of love" that he always harped on about, but Harr Rising to his feet, Harry's green eyes seemed to glow in fury and fear, and a momentary flash of uncontrolled madness, glaring at the slightly agitated and worried visage of Albus

Dumbledore he roared, "THEN I DON'T WANT TO BE HUMAN!"

A deep-seated silence followed that statement, and both Harry and Dumbledore appeared to be processing what was stated. Two faces, two separate expressions. One younger, a look of realization, then determination. The other older, shocked, concerned and finally regretful.

"Harry, my dear boy, I am deeply sorry for your loss. As am I equally sorry for withholding the prophecy and its contents from you. I only wanted you to have a normal childhoo-"

A raised hand silenced the Headmaster, interrupting him for the second time in such a short period.  
>"Stop, Professor. Apologies will get us nowhere."<p>

Harry's expressionless face unnerved Albus far more than the outburst earlier. The concern on his face deepened, and he brought his hands together cautiously, as if to not alarm a wild animal.

"Harry, maybe it is best if you go to bed, and think about the past and the future for a bit. Maybe it will help you decide on the actions you want to take on the present. Maybe you will find a bit of the peace you deserve." He kept his eyes fixed on the young boy- no man- that sat in the chair across from him. He had faced and triumphed against too much to still be called a child. Eyes to the floor, hair across his eyes hiding them from view.

A breathy and tired exhale, "Fine."

Rising stiffly from his chair, he made to leave, but stopped and turned, eyes downcast, but voice sad and hopeful, "The Prophecy. Can it be wrong? Is there...Is there no way to get out of it?"Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Harry's thoughts moved rapidly, thinking of any possible inclinations towards the affirmative, only to come to a crashing halt at the responding words.

"No, my boy. I regret to inform you that such things are set in stone...I have to ask the unthinkable of you, time and time again. You will never know the depths of my sorrow." For the first time since Harry had come to Hogwarts, the venerable old wizard looked every year of his 115 years, and it almost made him desire to abandon his plans that were stewing in the back of his mind. Almost.

Harry turned his eyes back to the floor and nodded, before turning to exit. Interrupted by a soft "Harry?" he turned, "I will, try Harry.I will try to make it so you don't face that fate. But very few ever win the battle against the Moirai, the fates. But Harry, I will try."

He gave the headmaster a bleak and forgiving smile, "I know you will.", but he might have a solution to the problem that might just save himself, from everyone else.

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><p><em>Later in the Dormitory<em>

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><p>After that emotional rollercoaster that he couldn't seem to stop , he felt like he should take the Headmasters advice. He needed to think, he had some important decisions to make for his future. He had the inklings of what could be a lifesaving gambit, meant to save himself from the death wished for by most everyone else. He didn't want to be anyones martyr, he just wanted to be himself, little Harry Potter, worrying about the things that everyone else had to, rather than some grand scheme of good versus evil.<p>

That little plan started with a gift he thought he would never get to use, one unobtrusive square of leather, smooth and written in hard to read chicken scratch mixed with spiraling script. In that unsuspecting little book was detailed the steps of one of the most difficult magical transformations in Magic. It detailed how to become an animagus. Written by the only people to ever become one and never register.

Something that he hoped would get him out of this...destiny...that lay before him.

Opening his trunk he dug out a package, wrapped in plain red wrapping-paper, shaped like a small rectangle, something he could easily fit into the pocket of his robes. Badly wrapped, torn in some places, and a few splotches that looked suspiciously like dog slobber, it felt like home.

It had been a Christmas present from Sirius, one he had carefully hidden from Ron and the others, at the man's instruction. Should he try it?

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><p><strong>I in no way own anything as awesome as Firebreather or Harry Potter.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**I am uploading all of the chapters I have at once! More to come.**

**Disclaimer: I wish I owned either Harry Potter or Firebreather, but sadly, that is not the case.**

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><p>"And stay in there you ungrateful brat! - Or I'll, I'll"<p>

Harry couldn't stop the confrontational retort from climbing its way out of his throat, "Or you'll what?!"

The fat man's face turned an overripe puce color "I'll- wring your scrawny little neck!"

Harry's only reply was to only reach a hand towards his pocket, eyes narrowed dangerously, and whisper, "I'd like to see you try."

His face blanched an unhealthy white. The last words before he disappeared behind the shield that was the door was a more panicked than angry "STAY!" and then there was the loud slam reverberating unpleasantly off the walls of the rubbish filled room.

The last few months at the Dursley's had been absolutely killer. If it hadn't been one thing, it had been another, but it ended in a mostly one-sided shouting match through the door. But it hadn't ever been to this point. That was the last time he had left his room since he had been interned in this stupid place.

Which meant he had more than enough time to experiment.

In the smallest bedroom of Number 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, illuminated by a simple set of candles, Harry Potter sat in complete motionlessness. Before him was the journal his father and his friends had written in, detailing their accounts of the difficult animagus transformation, a journal Harry had read well over a dozen times during his stay in Durskaban. Though his "family" had been relatively ...civil due to the Dementor incident last summer.

But really, He would much rather be in his room than out with the suckling pig boy and that sow. The feeling of animosity that he had experienced in Dumbledore's office had only increased in his time away from the school. Back before he had gone to the order earlier in the year, no one had talked to him, they kept him in the dark. Rather than stay with people who cared about him, the foisted him off on his emotionally abusive relatives. He couldn't help but be resentful towards the people who were most likely happier than he was, and even more so in that they could get away from their troubles, while he was stuck in the muggle world with no way to escape his negative thoughts.

No way except his animagus studies. He wasn't exactly sure how no one from the ministry had been to his door yet, but he wasn't exactly surprised. He knew for a fact that Voldemort was in charge over there, so it might be in their best interests to leave him alone for now. Better to have the enemy in familiar territory rather than in an unknown place.

But since they hadn't come for him yet, he felt like they had given him the go ahead to use magic anyway. After that embarrassment at court, he felt like they wouldn't be coming for him any time soon.

So he found himself leafing through the already memorized pages of the book, fingers tracing softly over slightly faded ink, the occasional ink splatter of an abused quill. The words wove a tale of daring and adventure, the occasional mistake and the sporadic inside joke.

He could just imagine the adventures behind the words, the laughter behind the jokes. The comradery, friendship, family. If they had been here, he could've had that. But no. He shook his head, the past wasn't something to be stuck on. It was something to be remembered, grieved over, and learned from. He had his future to protect now, and this was a tool to do it.

The book described, in essence, that it took meditation, and introspection, an analysis of the person in order to find ones animal form. Of course it didn't say that word for word. It took quite a bit of summarization to get that- what with a lot of the actual phrases and wording being written in Sirius's script, and some of the slightly more technical words being from his father. Sirius just wasn't the sort of person to be neat and orderly, and with his father's help, it only got slightly more legible and overall it tended to jump from one topic to another with little to no preamble.

But every page echoed laughter and their essence.

It was heartbreaking to read. He got to know them through the pages, like the time Prongs tried to turn into his buck form, and only succeeded in the antlers in the tale. Or Padfoot when he couldn't stand any kind of smell or sound due to his enhanced senses. Not to mention he most likely looked ridiculous with the dog nose and ears sticking out of his unruly nest of hair.

But, right- meditation. It took a lot of self-control and restraint that he thought he didn't have, but after trying, again and again he could feel himself relaxing. How could someone as spastic and lighthearted as Sirius accomplish it?

So instead he chose to think about his life. The people he hated- Malfoy, Snape, the Dursleys, Voldemort. The people he loved, his family, Hermione, Ron, Hagrid, Sirius, the rest of the Weasleys, Ginny. All the people that made living this miserable life worth living, make it a world he wanted to live in. Images would flash by, Ron and the slugs, Ginny and Tom's book, Dumbledore and Marvolo Gaunt's ring. The veil, court, Buckbeak, Norman. All of the good and the bad.

He could tell by his actions and the actions of others. He could tell things about himself. He had pride, he was loyal. He could be foolish, but thought with his heart. He had more problems than most, he was usually selfless. For all of the bad he had seen, he still believed in the good in others, and was still idealistic.

What animals were anything like that, not a dog like Sirius, not a cat, otter-no, something with fur.

His arms felt itchy.

Something soft, but powerful. Something regal.

He could feel bones creaking.

Something that could be dangerous, something with weapons.

Skin stretched.

He could feel it, he was on the verge of something, on the verge of uncovering his true self.

The uncomfortable itching, the feeling of cracking bones shifting, the morphing of limbs. All of it uncomfortable, but none of it overly painful. But he would be fine, even if it was. He was used to pain.

Somehow, over the course of it, he had stood, he didn't know when, all he could feel was the flow of the stagnant air. The flaring of nostrils as he scented dirty clothes dotting the floor like the white splotches on a fauns soft downy fur.

He knew he was positioned perfectly so that should he open his eyes, he would see himself in the slightly broken mirror on the wall across from him (It was broken when Dudley through a tantrum about his diet).

Weeks of practice, weeks of hard work, isolation, effort, all culminating in this moment. Standing straight, his spine cracked on last time, and he shivered in glee. The feeling was like no other, but for the slightly claustrophobic feeling, but for the longing to be in the trees, running on the grass, he felt the same. Slightly disoriented, feeling like life was something to be enjoyed, that things were much simpler.

There was nothing to be worried about other than predators, about getting food. No nightmares would be waiting for him when he would sleep, and every morning would be greeted with joy. But No. That was the animal in him speaking, the simplistic nature coming to the forefront of his mind. Humans were different, more complicated- but he wanted nothing more than to stay like this. He would be free.

But he couldn't.

He started to open his eyes, and when the slightest slit opened, he saw what he had expected. He was a buck, like his father. Proud, strong, tall. Eyes the deepest forest green, dappled with bits of gold like the sunlight glinting off morning dew. Antlers that almost reached the ceiling, sharp, pointed, weapons. In this form, he wasn't the weak Harry Potter, he could protect himself.

These thoughts passed in a fraction of a second.

That's when his eyes fully opened and the agony started.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Don't own Harry Potter or Firebreather**

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><p>Harry tried to scream. Where the other transformation had felt natural, this one felt like it was tearing his very body and soul apart.<p>

While the transformation before had felt right, natural even, this one felt like one his body was trying to cross a bridge not meant for mortal men.

If anything, it definitely wasn't one mean to be started when you're a deer.

Rather than the painless melting and cracking of the animagus transformation, this one was likened more to being hit with a mortal truck. Or maybe a couple of bashings from the whomping willow. Either way, it felt like his bones were being broken with unimaginable force. Heat was gaining force in his stomach, it made him feel like he wanted to be sick. He could only freeze as his body betrayed him.

It started with his arms and legs. They buckled and bent, arms returning to long limbs, hooves to fingered hands, but his legs only became bipedal. Claws sprouted from the tips of his fingers, ridges along the sides of his arms and up his shoulders, even down his back. He could only lie there and bang his head against the floor in an attempt to distract himself from the pain, but he just couldn't, couldn't make it stop. His clawed hands dug gullies into the wood, every thrashing kick of his legs left abrasions, and scattered trash about the room. In front of him, something struck the mirror and it broke.

The shards rained down on him like glittering snow, he couldn't feel it.

The burning… THE BURNING- the FIRE. It wanted out.

Skin thickened, gained a dark reddish-purplish hue. Power echoed in the air, dark fire exhaling from his mouth in every frantic pained breath. His already unruly hair fluttered around his shoulders, black tresses fluttering in the different eddies created around his body due to the unnatural heat. Something to his left caught fire.

In an anguished scream, silent, he twisted into the flames, body twitching in pain. Not from the heat of the flames, but in a way how good it felt compared to the seemingly cool ground that surrounded him. It was everything else that was too cold, even the fire felt like it burned cold. It needed to be warmer, it needed to be hotter, molten, like lava. Anything else, and he felt like he would freeze and die. He could feel the power draining from him, the woosh as the curtains caught flame. Plastic melted, glass cracked and broke, wind rushed in, fanning the flames to an even higher height.

More fire blistered in his throat, and a full bodied roar exploded where all there had been the crickle crackle of burning, of destruction. Something worked its way through the wall of instincts protecting him from the outside world, and brought him to his senses.

"Bang BaNG, BANG"

Pounding on the door, heh, it echoed the pounding in his head.

Vaguely he could hear words… "Brat! Brat! What're you doing in there?!"

He could hear a yelp as the door knob rustled and turned.

And then footsteps. The door slammed, and the sound of the car engine starting, and it drove away. Then silence. And he mercifully passed out.

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><p><strong>Some Time Later<strong>

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><p>Who knows how long later he woke up, it couldn't have been too long; the house was still burning around him. Here and there, he could hear the fire making the house collapse. The air rippled with heat. Breathing in the smoke, he realized he felt pretty good. For all of the pain earlier he thought that he would be a simmering pile of goo on the floor, but it seems that that isn't the case.<p>

He tried to get up, but he kept falling back to the ground. His legs, something was up with his legs. This spur of panic managed to get him up, just for a second before he fell back to the ground with a groan. He felt like a fledgling unable to stand on his own two feet.

Something cracked, the walls and floor shook, and he decided it would be a good idea to get out of the soon to be condemned building.

Crawling he got over to the cracked and melted glass in front of him. Looking into it he could only see pieces of the whole. A golden eye here, the edge of a fanged mouth there, distorted by the unevenly melted surface.

"Breeerrrrrrrrr" a fire engine'salarm resounded outside, if he heard correctly, from a few streets away. It would undoubtedly be coming here.

He crawled towards the wall, trying to gain his footing, it felt all wrong like he wasn't meant to be standing on two legs, but as he got up, he felt them change to something similar to human legs. Normal ones, and he hurried to his feet, and limped towards the door. Grabbing the handle he found it pleasantly warm, but when he opened the door, it wouldn't budge.

They couldn't have. They wouldn't, would they? They wouldn't lock it from the outside knowing that he wouldn't be able to get out, they wouldn't leave him to die, and no matter how much they hated him, wouldn't they?

"THOSE BASTARDS!" He screamed hoarsely at the empty house, it came out like a roar. "How could they?!" He needed to punch something, to hit something, to get rid of that feeling of hopelessness and anger that he had been feeling much too often in the past months.

He punched the wall next to the door, it trembled. The door rattled in its sockets. Soot and crumbly insulation drifted down from the ceiling in amalgamated clumps. His eyes watered in irritation. It was in his throat, a couple of coughs later, he was breathing faintly face flush against the door, sweat seeping slowly from his hairline.

One last anger desperate anger punch later, had the door flying off its weakened hinges and hitting the wall in the hallway opposite. Moments later had him out of the house, sprinting awkwardly through the house where he spent the majority of his miserable childhood. Once he was a couple houses away, he turned to look back, there he watched as the roof collapsed as if in encore to the arriving police and firemen.

Flames spiraled into the night sky, only to fizzle out in the summer night air.

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><p><strong>One house collapse later:<strong>

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><p>After the house had completely collapsed, he had snuck his way past the gawking neighbors, those in for fame, those who cried foul, "It was horrible! I wake up in the middle of the night to that horrid sight! There is no water anywhere, because of the drought, what if it had spread to my house?!"<p>

Or "I bet it was that nasty Potter boy, he never did fit in with no one else. Never trusted him around my son, 'specially after what Petunia told me. Never turned my back on those shifty eyes. Wouldn't surprise me, officer if he staged this to steal the wealth right out from under their generous noses."

Harry shouldn't have been surprised, he knew the Dursley's spread lies about him throughout the community, but even so, he didn't expect people that he had never met to have so much against him.

But there was nothing he could do, it'd be better to just disappear, to go find Ron or Hermione, Lupin, someone who he knew could help with his present situation. Or Dumbledore. Anyone. Maybe Ms. Figg still lived by, and he could send for help through her.

He stuck to the shadows, he blended in with his new skin. As much as it freaked him out, it helped, and he didn't have time to dwell on it. A flash of color caught his eye, a man in robes walking down the street, glaring in disdain at those he passed.

Not good. They were after him, whether it was the ministry, or Voldemort. It was all the same. He really had to get going. Forsaking the safety of the dark alley, he full-out sprinted once the man had passed. He could feel Voldemort stirring in the back of his mind, and he knew someone much more powerful than either of them was coming, and he didn't want to be around innocents when he did.

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><p><strong>Dedicated to the hazel-eyed bookworm<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**I do not own Harry Potter or Firebreather, no matter how much I may want to.**

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><p>Somehow, with all his running and hiding, he had managed to avoid all of the muggles amalgamating into whispering groups around the area of his house.<p>

Past the numerous fire engines, out of the cul-de-sac, and over a couple of fences. Once past that point, he had no idea where to go. His only instinct was to get away from the scene of the crime. He was in real trouble this time-but- then again, when wasn't he in _real_ trouble.

His whole life had been dealing with the shit life had thrown at him one after another. So, he'd have been more surprised at this point if anything went according to plan, or without a hitch.

Like that stupid plan to use the Sirius's gift. He had only wanted a backup plan, something to pull out of his metaphorical hat should shit hit the fan. And look how that went. He was up shit creek without a paddle.

Or more accurately, a freaky purple draconic long haired guy running half naked through the streets of Surrey. That would draw attention even in the wizarding world, but if he really thought about it, they seemed to be just the same as the muggle world in things that they don't understand. If they can't understand it, then it must be feared, hated or controlled, and if you cannot control it, then it must be destroyed. But that seemed to be just human nature, one of intolerance. But it really wasn't up to him to condemn others, not when he had made mistakes of his own.

There were people he could have saved, but was unable to, and their deaths would weigh heavy on his soul.

Shaking his head, he looked around, finding himself on the outskirts of living areas, a sparse forest lay before him. Trees were scattered haphazardly, as if some time ago, some giant had plucked bunches of trees from the group, leaving them scattered in unusual groups of two to three.

On the other side, came rustling as two other figures walked out from a shield of twisting branches, leaves drooping. Tawny hair billowed behind a face made of stone, eyes yellow pebbles in the creases of his face. They shone with determination, and confidence. Behind him stood two other people, one tall, lanky, and orange haired, face dotted by freckles, and eyeing the ground around him with scorn that masked a deep uneasiness. The last he was barely visible, even in the moonlit evening. The only thing he could see were dark small spheres of dark bleary blue.

His first instinct was to stay out of sight, so he dove out of view, plowing headfirst into a pile of leaves in a dry powdery ditch. Just out of sight of the wizards ahead of him. They hadn't seen him yet, though he could see their eyes roving from one side to the next, only to double back as if to catch a hasty movement. Every sway of a tree branch had their wands instantly focused on it- ready for trouble.

They stopped, and the Minister of Magic took up the head of the group, while the other man, hood hiding his face from sight, save for those … dead looking eyes, and took a rear position guarding the backs of the other two. They younger red head had a quill and book tucked into his side, satchel swaying a too and forth a bit before he steadied it with a slightly trembling hand. The other clutched a wand grip tightening so that even from this distance he could see the white knuckles standing out against the rest of the skin. The Minister brought out his wand, and the man from behind moved to the front, speaking silently, spell-words winding silently into the air. They continued this for a few minutes, every so often pointing in a different direction. Searching…. Searching?

The defensive position, the obvious nervousness, it just screamed that they were ready for a confrontation. Did they know what had happened to him?

Why else would they be so nervous?! He didn't even know what had happened to him! All that he did know, was that he was a lot more capable than he used to be.

Heh, he kind of accomplished what he was setting out to, in rather twisted and unwanted way.

Eyes turned his way.

_Okay. Okay, no reason to panic. Maybe they are just out taking a walk, just the Minister and his lackeys wandering out in a dark potentially dangerous forest- who am I kidding._

He was pretty sure that the only thing warranting the minister's attention, not to be arrogant, was most likely his earlier incident. He wasn't sure how they could have known, whether it be through the muggle news, or some kind of magical tracking spell. Hell, at this point it would be stranger if they hadn't noticed, and here he'd thought that they would've left him alone for bigger fish.

The Minister's wand glowed a bright white, pointing in his direction, while the other man's shimmered an ominous crimson.

They both talked, and then spoke quietly amongst themselves for a moment before a bit of an argument, and then finally after what seemed like hours, the Minister stepped forward.

"… Harry?" this was tentative, unsure.

Should he get away now, while he had the chance? He peered out of his hiding place in the ditch, eyes creeping up just above the line of dirt, only to find what seemed like death staring straight into his own. He froze. The man stared immobile and he could only wait until he announced his find to the group- but then his eyes moved on.

He slowly turned towards the Minister, freezing every time the man might eye him again, but he was safe.

"Harry, I- we know you are there." He paused, waiting for some kind of response head slightly turned towards his hiding place.

"I saw what happened to the muggle- your relative's house." Then he raised his voice a little, "I can help you. I can fix the house, erase everyone's memories! I can make it so that you can go back to your old life!"

There was no way that he would do that, would he? For free? There had to be a catch.

"I can even help with that monster that caused all of this mess! The man behind me? It's Walden Macnair, he works with the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures! He can find and kill any magical creature out there, even the one that is hunting you!"

Oh. That wasn't good. He wasn't being chased, as far as he knew, and for some reason he could tell, there was nothing chasing those than the group across from him (though something weird was happening on the left) so the other logical conclusion was….. that they didn't know that Harry Potter and that mysterious creature were one and the same.

"All it would take… is your help. The Ministry is fighting a losing battle, every day, we find out that more and more of us are on the other side.- but with you! Morale would rise! People would fight in your name! To know that they chosen one was on their side, that they were in the right! Winning would become a feasible goal- rather than some pipe-dream!"

He had to visibly calm himself, his eyes had garnered a bit of a crazed glint, and his arms had been gesticulating wildly, he looked as if he had been teetering on the edge of sanity, right and ready to take the plunge.

Harry knew that he couldn't afford to wait all night… and as time was passing, he noticed that they weren't going to leave anytime soon. He started to stand knees creaking a bit due to staying in the same position for so long.

And suddenly, there came a rustle off to his left, tree limbs willingly parting to reveal…

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><p>Surprise! You'll have to wait until the next chapter!<p>

BTW:

In OOTP, Walden Macnair actually got his eye poked by Neville with Hermione's wand, and was presumably captured and sent to Azkaban. Here, he was actually thought to be on the side of the Ministry during the battle, rather than the Death Eaters and was therefore exempt from a prison sentence. So, his presence in the chapter makes it a bit AU, but I couldn't resist putting him in.

Thanks for reading.

Have a nice day.


	5. Chapter 5

**I do not own Harry Potter or Firebreather . (Though I wish I did.)**

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><p>A deer. That was anticlimactic. It bounded through the trees across the clearing, eyes wide, and whites showing in fear. It raced, legs churning for faster and faster movement until it ghosted out of sight.<p>

The men dropped the tenseness of their bodies at the sight, their fear seeming rather ridiculous in hindsight.

But then a foot stepped into the clearing, followed by a clothed leg. White stood stark against the brownish green forest background, age showed around the normally twinkling eyes, age showing in every wrinkle like the rings within a tree. They were of such a number that the normally youthful Dumbledore looked like an old man, and every step was slow and measured as if it pained him.

Harry always knew that Dumbledore was old, but it wasn't often that he _really_ understood it. Dumbledore was an old man, if not in spirit, then in body. This night, he looked his century in age.

He walked slowly out, but a pale hand reached forward to place it reassuringly on the old wizard's shoulder when he stumbled a bit only to hastily tear away as if it had been burned by the contact.

He just knew who that belonged to.

Confirming his suspicions, out came the potion master, eyes as black as hair, and his hair as greasy as his heart. Eyes stuck in their perpetual glare, he eyed the others at the scene moodily and wearily, as if expecting violence, while the Dumbledore just straightened out of his weary slump and waved off his comrade's nervousness.

Snapes tensing caught his eye however, and Harry noticed that Snape was gritting his teeth while gripping his left arm. Hard. Dumbledore's eyes didn't show any expression for the slight widening of his eyes, and the darkening of his face. Shuffling into the clearing, he nodded to the Minister only to greet them with a quiet, "Mr. Scrimgeour, Mr. Macnair," here a pause, before, "Mr. Weasley… I believe your mother is quite worried about you."

This made Percy take on a slightly affronted look, "Look you madman! You have no right to speak to me about such things!" Scrimgeour moved his hand in front of Percy, "Percy. Stop. "He turned to Dumbledore and held out his hand to shake, "Dumbledore, it has been a while."

"It has, Rufus."

"I hear you're a wanted criminal Dumbledore? I would have never thought that you would be one."

"It would appear so, wouldn't it?" He let loose a chuckle.

Percy just couldn't seem to let it go, "You are a wanted criminal! Don't chuckle as if it is some joke to be brushed off! The Ministry is hunting for you this very second!"

Dumbledore turned to Percy, amusement in the lines of his face, "But, it appears that they have found me, have they not?" He said gesturing to the Minister and his entourage.

Percy blushed the same shade as his hair.

Dumbledore turned to the Minister, "So Rufus, if I may get to the point, you are here, because you noticed the disturbance with young Harry did you not?"

His eyes narrowed in on Dumbledore's face, "That is correct." Stiffly he continued, "And have you noticed the strange creature in his general presence?"

Dumbledore's face was somber once more, and he turned to Harry's hiding spot.

"Aaaahhhh that is much easier explained than you would expect…..Harry my boy."

His eyes focused on Harry,

"Please do come out."

Here Harry was skeptical of the Minister's reaction, as Dumbledore seemed to already know more than he did. But that wasn't anything new. But he trusted Dumbledore's judgment to keep him alive, if not more than his own judgment.

So, stowing his reservations he climbed slowly out of the ditch, eyes shifting from side to side watching the others around him. One foot in front of the other, until he stood in plain view.

"…Dumbledore, I can't see anything. Are you sure that there isn't just a problem with the location spells?"

"…No Rufus, it is just the lack of light. Harry, you can see us just fine can't you?"

"…Yeah." Since he was directly addressed he felt like he should speak. It was only one more step from stepping out.

Immediately Scrimgeour pulled out his wand and lit the tip. His eyes widened in the unflattering light.

Immediately Macnair started waving his wand, preparing to cast a spell.

Dumbledore turned and in an uncharacteristic show of anger, yelled, "STOP RIGHT NOW!"

This caught the other men off guard, and Percy was left staring dumbly at whatever creature stood before him. Dumbledore turned back to Harry, and beckoned forward.

"Harry, my boy. Let me see you." His voice betrayed his concern, and Harry was just as unsure as before. He felt skittish, that rather than standing there being ogled he should be running. That or attacking those that posed as a threat. He could already feel a growl hitching in his throat and his teeth baring in protest to the others actions.

The idea was so opposite of his normal state of mind that it boggled him. He had never had this reaction to other people before. This one was almost….animalistic. That coupled with the feeling that he would most likely be just as fine on four legs, as two, made him feel rather uncomfortable.

Harry could only imagine what they were seeing. A young man, monstrous in form. Bone-like horns coming out of the side of his head, teeth sharp and dangerous, with claws sticking out of the sides of his slightly scaly and purplish arms. Claws tipped his hands and his eyes were undoubtedly slit. He was taller than he was before, meaning his jeans ended above his ankles, and his shirt was almost completely shredded by two long spines along his back. Ridges stretched along his shoulders to his chest, with a long stretch along his spine. In the center of his chest was a dark green and slightly purplish gem, it sparked with inner fire.

That was what he knew physically, he could feel it. But he didn't know what he looked like. He felt like it would be pretty bad.

The Minister spoke, "Dumbledore…. What is that that thing?"

Harry was still tense, he could feel the killing intent from the Macnair guy. He was eyeing Harry as if he wanted to kill him for existing. Heck, he probably did.

"That, Mr. Minister, is your 'Chosen One' Harry Potter."

Eyes went wide. "By Jove, what… what happened to him?"

"He seems to have awoken some sort of heritage, through some kind of magical means. Tell me, Harry, have you done anything unusual lately?"

"Well… I might have maybe, tried to becomeanAnimagus?"The last part came out in a rush, as he was afraid of reprisal, but that more than anything seemed to calm the Minister down.

"Oh, so it's just a botched Animagus attempt? No big deal, you just have to reverse it. A little time at Saint Mungos and you are right as rain."

"Not so, Rufus. The Anigmagus transformation seemed to be a stimulant, and this seems to be more of a natural state."

Snape chose this moment to remind everyone of his presence. "So Potter, you have gone and ruined things again, haven't you? I'm not surprised, with you being as incompetent as you are. I guess the little freak looks like he is, hmmm? Much like your father."

Dumbledore looked at him disapprovingly, "Severus!"

Harry couldn't help it. He snapped.

"YOU BASTARD" as he lunged forward fire dripped from his jaws like blood, flowing out with the exhale of his shout. He lunged forward claws for the throat of his old professor, who could only stand there unprotected with wide eyes. They didn't show any fear however, and that was what saved his teachers life. Harry knew that if he tried to run, nothing would have stopped him from running after him and turning him into a bloody pile of flesh.

He looked with wide eyes at the slightly flushed man across from him, who seemed resigned to the claws lightly touching the thin skin across his jugular. And he was this close from killing someone out of hate. "You bastard." This was whispered.

Then suddenly a shout came from the side, attracting the attention of those gathered. A woman with crazy hair and mad eyes stood at the edge watching with amusement along with those of her companions. They wore cloaks of werewolf skin with masks etched out of bone. She let out a lazy grin and a green light shot of her wand in their direction, aiming for Dumbledore only to have it dodged as Severus threw Dumbledore to the side. This earned him a glare, which he readily ignored to fight with the other two she had arrived with.

At that she ran forward, battle scream tearing itself from her lips as she threw herself at the first person in her way, the Minister, and she stabbed her wand forward like a blade, grinning in satisfaction as it hit its mark in the Minister's side and dug in deep, drawing blood. There was a slight sheen around the wand, in the shape of an invisible blade, and it only became visible as she drew it out slick with blood, revealing a wicked stiletto surrounding her wand. She raised it to her lips licking the blood away, before removing the rest with a practiced flick of the wrist. Seeing the Minister drop to the ground, she ran at Percy, going for the kill.

Harry seeing this, couldn't stop the red haze from his eyes. Not another important person was going to die in front of him. Not when he could do something about it. Even as traitorous as the bratty man was, he was Ron's brother, and therefore family. So he dove forward grabbing Bellatrix Lestrange around the waist and throwing her and him over the ditch he was hiding in before.

He wondered if his wand was still in his back pocket, and if he time to check. Unlikely.

So until he got the chance to look, it seemed as if it was a hand to hand fight. With a roaring growl of challenge, he pushed the blades along his arm against her side, trying to gain some ground as she struggled beneath his newly muscled height. But she had experience and magic on her side, and she had quickly managed to squirm out from under him with a nicely timed kick to the groin, leaving him groaning in pain on the ground. He tried to stand up, but only found him facing her wand and apparent death.

Until he felt something in the distance.

It called to something in him, something that called for revenge and the spilling of blood. For revenge on the puny human that dared rise up against something like him.

Leaning back slightly to glare at the woman in front of him, he took a deep breath, and she smiled in anticipation. Then he breathed out, and happened wasn't what he was expecting. Flames a dark blood red came right at her face, baring flesh down the bone in her arms, with which she had tried to cover her face to no avail. She fell, screaming in flailing as the fire continued to burn without stop. As the acrid smell of burning flesh filled the air, blisters formed, and dark blood ran in what seemed like streams.

It wasn't enough.

Not when so much blood stained her dainty hands.

So he leaned forward till he was on all fours on the ground and felt his body shift. He was comfortable on all fours, teeth long and sharp, ready for biting and tearing, hair laying long against his back, gem studded against his chest and flames writhing around it. Spines ready to rend and cut. He was ready and able to kill. So without a thought, he leaped forward onto the screaming woman, and clawed and cut and bit until the meat bag under him didn't move anymore. He could only satisfy the anger that remained by breathing fire onto the remains until nothing was left.

Only then, did his ire leave.

And his humanity took the forefront once more.

_What… what the?_

Battles were still raging on around him, but he was still in shock. He had murdered someone. Brutally. With his teeth and claws and flames. Snape shot spells, while Dumbledore tried to heal the aggrieved Minister.

Macnair was nowhere to be seen, and the Death Eaters seemed to have gone up in number. Percy was with Dumbledore, and for all of his animosity earlier, seemed to be accepting help in saving the Minister's life.

But as the another Death Eater went down, the sound of thumping filled the air, and the sound of breaking trees echoed towards them rapidly. Fighting stopped, as those turned to face this new threat, always mindful of the enemies around them.

It was getting closer, THUMP THUMP… THUMP THUMP THUMP.

He could see the trees closest to him getting stopped by something. There were larger trees than were there… Oh.

He moved his gaze more skywards. There, standing on what he thought were aged tree trunks, was a creature of unimaginable proportions. It... kind of reminded himself of him. But bigger. And with slightly different coloring. And much scarier.

Dumbledore's voice reached them, clearly in the night, for all of the noise. "-Kaiju."

The large gold eye that seemed like the Sun at night turned to peer down at them, head tilted to the side to see them better. It stood and rose to full height, more humanoid in shape rather than the dragon-dog appearance.

"So, my son. You appear to have figured out more than your brother did on your own." The gravelly voice broke the shocked silence.

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><p>Wooh. That took forever to write. Enjoy!<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**I do not own Firebreather. Or Harry Potter, I wish I did.**

**Last chapter:**

**"So, my son. You appear to have figured out more than your brother has on your own." The gravelly voice broke the shocked silence.**

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><p>The few death eaters remaining raised their wands to the cry of "Avada Kedavra!" and with simultaneous motions they flung green light at the beast.<p>

He treated their attacks like flies buzzing annoyingly around his face. No, even less than that, he didn't bother to move a muscle, just stood there regally as the lights came into contact with his scales.

The Death Eaters were shouting blood-thirstily, sure that their attacks would be the end of it- it never took more than one hit of the killing curse to kill.

Harry hated everything about it, the way someone with no effort could kill even the most powerful, all on a whim. The weak were given power, and he didn't mean weak physically. Even a weak person could be strong, it just took fortitude of will.

That's one of the things about magic. It gave bad people power that they shouldn't have, and there was almost no way to think of all of the things.

But he didn't want someone coming into the fight unprepared for the danger. And something told him that the creature was obviously sentient, even without the knowledge that he was able to talk.

He wasn't even going to focus on its words till he had to.

He lunged forwards, trying to warn the dragon "LOOK OUT!"

But it obviously wasn't necessary, as the lights only met the scales and melted into the dark color in a slight ripple of green light like the displacement of still water.

The dragon snorted, before turning a disdaining eye on its attackers. "Fools. You dare attack me?"

A spark of anger had ignited in his eye, and when his great maw opened to speak, fire could be seen swirling in the back.

The Death Eaters weren't shaking in their boots, but they were obviously unnerved. It was like they didn't know what to do now that their ace in the hole was rendered useless. One of them, his skull mask looked like a grinning skull, deciding to take the lead. With Bellatrix dead, there was no real reason to stay, and their Lord would most likely benefit more from the knowledge they could potentially bring rather than their deaths. He might spare them. Might.

And that was better than what was sure to be certain death at the hands of an unknown entity.

So 'Fight' was out. That leaves only flight. So 'Smiley' dove to the side as if sensing danger, shouting a slightly panicked "Stupefy!" at the creature, and he turned ready to apparate away.

Only, he found himself lifted unceremoniously lifted off the ground. Hundreds of feet in the air, he could still hear what must be dull to those around him. Their screams as they were slowly crushed in the hands of a giant, "Monster!" The sound of sizzling and popping flesh as he breathed fire onto his clenched hand, searing only the face as the rest was safe in his clenched fist. Save for the creaking and cracking of bone within its midst.

A savage grin came upon its face, lipless skin pulling up to reveal sharp teeth as tall as a man, and Harry could only stare as droplets of blood rained down like sparse rain.

A wet splatter fell on his face. He went to wipe it away, only to notice his hand. It was crusty, dry and sticky. Brownish splatter layered his skin, with wetter parts still blared a garish red. It was morbid, and he didn't know how he didn't smell it in the air.

He knelt slowly on the ground, and tried to wipe the blood on the dead and browning grass. It wouldn't come ignored the crash in the forest nearby and the sickening crunch of impact. He didn't look up, as he heard foot steps behind him, and a soft hand upon his shoulder.

"Harry. Harry." He didn't respond.

"Harry!" and Harry jerked his head so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash.

He was sure there was blood everywhere, he didn't even remember how he got it all over him, just that it was everywhere. And he was sure it wasn't his. But he wasn't ready to be a murderer, wasn't ready to be a killer. It was against everything that he had ever believed in and he wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

"My boy… you did what you had to, but do not dwell on it. It drives the truly just to madness. I have seen friends go down the wrong paths for that reason."

His face was sad, even a little teary. "Now…" he turned to the creature that stood silently across from them, watching the exchange with keen eyes that glowed eerily.

"Who might you be, kind sir?"

One large lip curled, "How kind of you to ask. It saves me the trouble of killing you. If you had been as irritating as your little friends, I would have had to eviscerate you for daring to attack me."

Dumbledore didn't even blink," Oh, I am glad that you didn't have to go the trouble."

Dumbledore seemed to be getting back to his normal tone. Up to this point, he had been grave, and his jovial demeanor had been absent. But it seemed it was on its return journey.

Another snort, and another jet of flame shot into the sky. "So you say. But still, what keeps me from destroying you on the spot, and taking back what is rightfully mine?"

"I might say that it would be more troublesome than it was worth. It would draw unwanted attention to you, and your kind."

"We are more than prepared for any kind of interference from you… wizards." Wizards sounded like something worse than it was, coming out of its mouth.

"For the most part. But we wizards are an adaptable sort, much more trouble than we're worth. And we don't often stray out of Britain, and the American brand are much more forgiving…. In a way. They care a bit less about differences, while we" here he looked a bit regretful, and shot a glance at Harry, "Seem to be a bit less forgiving."

"Hmm" the dragons tone was thoughtful.

The Minister stuck on the ground spoke up, "DUMBLEDORE! WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS…. THIS … CREATURE! OF THIS WHOLE SITUATION?!"

The dragon looked on with disinterest, and returned his penetrating gaze to Harry, who looked nervously from side to side at anything but Bellll…. Belock? Or the conspicuous corpse in the middle of the ground.

He saw Percy cowering beside the Minster trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. While at the same time supporting his side. To Snape returning from the outer edge of the forest, gritting his teeth and unconscious Death Eaters floating behind him.

At the sight of the giant creature, he didn't seem very surprised. But Harry knew he should have been able to hear all that went on while in his absence.

Snape noticed him watching, so he treated Harry to his usual sneer.

Huh, he never thought he would find it endearing how the man he hated so much always treated him the same.

"I tire of this tomfoolery. I have come for one reason and one reason only, and that is not to be in the presence of you foolish creatures."

Dumbldore agreed." I feel that I must tell you of what has brought us to this point, however. It might be in your best interest to know what you have become involved in."

Another snort, "I am more than able to counteract any measure on your part."

"I agree. But not all of you would be able to." A nod at Harry. The dragon's eyes contracted, seeing it as a threat.

"Fine. Tell me your story. After that, I want to finish this business."

"It all began many years earlier…"

All throughout the story Belloc didn't say a word, only listened with a face that portrayed extreme annoyance. At the end, he only said, "Is that so." A statement not a question.

"I thought you should know, as more than likely, at one point or another, you may find yourself encountering someone related to this."

"Pah. Should one of you wizards, or anyone, _ANYONE_ threaten my family, they will quickly find themselves wishing that they had never. Even. Been. Born. "It was velvety and soft, not a threat. A promise.

He turned to Harry, "Son, I think it is time we be going. Your mother was looking forward to your arrival.- And even I do not dare go against that woman's wishes."

Harry balked, "Son?! I had a father, and he was James Potter! My mother was Lily Evans! And they aren't alive anymore. This is bullocks!"

Dumbledore stepped forward, shadowed by Snape, who had finished dealing with the enemies, leaving them in crumpled heaps, "Harry-"

"Quiet." The dragon murmured. He leaned forward until his hand was just next to Harry, and motioned for him to stand on it. "Get on." The black haired boy hesitated, "Now."

He hesitantly moved forward until he was right next to the hand and lightly jumped upon the rough warm surface. He stumbled a bit, because, as soon as he landed it was in motion and it caught him by surprise.

He knew that before the change he would have ended up tipping over the edge and falling to his death.

But now he caught himself. Belloc brought him up till he was eye, to well, eye. Or body. And he could feel the rumble in the air as he spoke, and the smell of sulfur as he breathed.

"My son, you must be able to feel it." His voice was stern, but strangely soft and gentle.

"The bond that runs between us like spilt blood, dripping from me to you. I also feel it. We are bound at the soul. You look much like your mother in your human form. But I? You take after me in soul. Feel the fire that burns inside it, and trace it back to me. You can feel that I am right, even if you do not want to believe. I, Belloc, king of the Kaiju, am your father. Your mother is Margaret Rosenblatt. You have a brother, Duncan, my heir."

"A brother…?"

How could he have a family he never knew about?! He only knew about his mother and father through the words of others, and how could he do anything but believe them? Especially since his personal life is the same as written history.

So how was it possible that he had a family?! How?! If it was true, why had they not come for him earlier?!

He voiced his thoughts aloud, almost screaming with indignation. His 'father's' only response was to chuckle. "A spit-fire, much like your mother. Ahh, but it is not my place to explain. It is your mothers. It was her decision."

He still didn't want to believe it. But he could feel it inside, something about the creature in front of him called to him, and he felt he felt an answering reverberation within himself. The feeling that if he let the creature in front of him stake the claim that he was family, that he would never let Harry be alone, and the Harry would always be protected.

And it scared him.

No one had ever been like that to him, not even Sirius. Sirius offered no solutions to his problems, he was more of a listening ear. Someone to offer advice, and to come to in the case of an emergency. But never someone that he could call upon to protect him time after time. And when Sirius did… it killed him.

But this creature, this thing, would never fall in battle. Not when he was as massive and powerful as he was. And he was offering something that no one else ever did. Not Sirius. Not Dumbledore.

He was offering a way out. There was no way that he could not take it.

There was no way he was going to reject what was sure to be his only way out. So he grabbed onto the lifeline.

"I believe you." And the words felt true. Even if on the way out they were hollow. Somewhere, in more primal part of himself, they were.

That said, the dragon placed him on the ground, and turned away.

"Say your goodbyes." It was gruff, but an oddly kind gesture.

So Harry turned to Dumbledore and the rest and walked up to him.

Harry hesitated before speaking, "I took his offer."

Dumbledore nodded sagely, "I thought that you would, though in a way I suppose that I had hoped differently." He sighed. "Harry, my boy, I wish you the best. I would offer you some parting wisdom, but I do not know how applicable it would be where you are going." But he smiled wryly, "Watch out for those American wizards, they can be a bit strange. And their magic, is less, how should I say, fanciful. Less merciful, and more battle oriented. It might be an interesting change from what you know." The twinkle was back.

"Of course you would encourage learning."

"Of course my boy, you would never know when it should come in handy. And your mother is quite a wonderful battle mage."

His breathe caught a bit in his throat," So… its true?- What he said?"

"It is. But do not blame the Potter's or Ms. Rosenblatt too much, they meant well. And it was done out of love."

"Why didn't you tell me? It would have most likely saved me so much grief!"

"Harry, it might not make sense to you right now, but often, knowing changes the outcome of events, for the better or worse. And in this case, I don't think it would be for the better. – Now, it is time to be off. Say your goodbyes to the Minister, Mr. Weasley, and Severus."

He didn't. Save for a half-hearted, "Figure yourself out." To the traitorous Weasley. And turned to leave.

"Harry, you wont be able to leave this behind forever. Remember what I said about fate. It wont stay out of the way for long. As it is, this is just buying precious time."

He paused, "I know." And he did.

Then he was swept up in a strong hand and was whisked away into the wind.

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><p><strong>Ps. If you see any major errors, please tell me, they only cause me shame if left unchecked. Thank you. Have a nice day! :D<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

The wind shredded against his lightly scaled cheeks, bring blood to the surface in a blush of dark red, visible even beneath the purple tinted skin. The ground dropped away, as strong wings beat through the air as steady as his heart beat. The 'thump 'thump' 'thump' and the hiss as the tough yet fragile wings sliced through the air like claws through soft flesh.

The trees looked like grass, and the humans and their houses became colonies on the ground. Bugs. They were everywhere, all relying on others to take the fall, to do the dirty work for them.

"Hey!- Where are we going?!"

No answer.

"HEY?!"

Several tries later, he was no closer to receiving a response than he was at the start. He even tried flaming the hand that was curled tightly around him, but loose enough to prevent crushing him to death. All that provoked was a squeeze and a reverberation through the heavy barrel chest. Like the fire that burned so hot wasn't worth anything more than a chuckle.

But to him, Harry guessed it wasn't anything more than that. Therefore, he had no other choice but to sit there jailed and be left alone to this thoughts.

Was it selfish of him to want to be happy? To be free of the burdens that society had thrown on his thin and drooping shoulders since infanthood?

It couldn't be wrong. Not since he had become the scapegoat for the ills of humanity. To face someone who is the epitome of the evils of their culture; to defeat that evil and cleanse them of the sins that they helped create. The hatred, and the love. They both worked together to create such a creature. But that's just it. No one was worth more than anyone else. And only fools thought otherwise. But humanity is foolish.

Every single creature on this planet- and most likely off it- is selfish. They all want something. Whether it be wealth, fame, power, to protect the ones they care about, or to live their lives unimpeded.

He was no different.

But that was something that was part of the nature of being alive. You couldn't exist or continue to live on without stepping on another's toes. Whether that was what would be their end, versus your own. Most people invariably chose themselves over others. But that was something to be expected. It was ingrained into their very consciousness, when all conscious thought fled, all that was left behind was instinct. Animals are just more true to it than most humans, hiding behind a thin veneer of morality and societal law.

"CCCRRRASH-SSSS HHHHH" The sound of a tsunamis being created under the sheer wind pressure of the monster's wings as he flew close to the surface of the water. A creature that could bend Mother Nature to its will? What hope would puny humans have against such power? When they still found themselves subservient to the whim of the earth.

Heh, how could they have ever thought to domineer over Gaia? The Earth was everything. It was through its benevolence that they could live peaceably and flourish. But she continued to be wrecked and destroyed through selfishness.

It all came back to that.

But it's alright to be selfish. It's fine to want to be happy. To wish for the simple lives of others; to wish that his problems were all someone else's. That he wasn't sitting in the hand of a giant humanoid dragon creature that resided over an entire species that claimed to be his father; who was taking him to see his real mother and brother that he never knew he had and away from his prophetic battle against a wizard that wanted to pull a Hitler and destroy all of the Muggles and the half-bloods in the world.

He could afford to take a little time to enjoy the scenery, as he wouldn't have any later. For now, it could be someone else's problem.

**~~~~~~~~~-What the heck is a line break anyway?-~~~~~~~**

Five hours.

That is how long they had been flying. Or, rather, his giant dragon 'dad' had been flying.

Even after so long, he still couldn't bring himself to believe that the creature was his father. He could believe that he somehow screwed up the animagus transformation so badly he got something that wasn't even human, he could even believe that he was somehow a relative on his mother or father's side. Maybe through marriage, and (hopefully) not through blood. Heck! Maybe it was because they were spiritually similar! But he didn't want to believe that the creature-Belloc- was his dad.

But he had come this far, and he had nowhere else to go back to now. Only the school, and even not that for much longer now that Dumbledore was forced to flee. A lot of the kids there didn't believe him anyway. Like Seamus. If they chose to live the rest of their short lives with their heads shoved up their asses, so be it.

But he didn't want to be there to see it. He would rather be anywhere but there. So… there you go. That's why he was here. He was buying his own life some time, and… and he couldn't pass up the opportunity to have a family that he had never in his life gotten the chance to have.

He just hoped it was worth giving up what he hated, but was familiar, for the unknown.

But if he thought realistically, it's not like he had much more to lose at this point, did he.

One Hour After That

Ground came into view on the horizon, sun blaring through the muted cloudy sky. The air was salty, and dolphins that he had managed to see frolicking before they had come closer, fled faster than any normal creature from a pack of sharks.

They crossed land, but before reaching anywhere, a blare of sirens echoed across the rocky shore that they crossed. The loud screech startled Harry from his perch on the palm of the large creature, where he had managed to fall into a light doze in order to get some rest.

It was hard to believe that all that had occurred- the animagus transformation, the Death Eater fight, the revelations about Belloc and his parents,- it all happened in a time period of under twenty four hours.

He was exhausted, and that was more of an understatement. Physically, he felt fine. It was like his body had inexhaustible energy, contrary to his limited stamina before. The fatigue was more mental. He had to take in so much in so short a time. All of it contrary to what he had always believed. He had…even killed someone.

He didn't regret killing her. Her specifically, she was a waste of air and space. But it was the loss of human life that he mourned. There was potential to be something different, something good, just like there was in anyone. She just chose to not live to her potential and that lead to her demise.

He just wished that the blood wasn't staining _his_ hands, and marring his conscience. He felt like that character from Muggle School, from that play…Shakespeare? He felt like he should be washing his hands, trying to get rid of the signs of his guilt long after they had faded out of existence.

He was always hurt by others, but this time it didn't just disfigure him physically (though any would be hard-pressed to triumph over the damage he managed to do to his own body) it also blackened his soul.

A helicopter came flying by, the chopper's blades strangely silent in the thunderous air. His father kept moving, but as they soared forward, he could see men using radios to contact each other. Within a half hour, jets that were more technologically advance than he had ever seen soared overhead.

They disappeared ahead of them, along to the sound of thunder, but when he glanced above and forward at the clouds slightly ahead of them, not a single thundercloud cluttered the sky.

Trees flew by, cities that stood thousands of meters tall, and swayed slightly from the wind pressure. As the crossed by, all of the people streamed into buildings and large metal sheets flew down the buildings, windows turned into mirrors of shiny metal that glowed in the glow of the rising sun.

Even the scales under his knees turned to a lighter hue, much less dark and bloody than those of the night before, but Belloc still looked as fearsome as ever. The light did nothing to dull the ferocity of his gleaming white fangs, and the spurts of flame that came from his nostrils with every breath.

They showed no signs of slowing down, and he wondered when they were going to stop. Everywhere they went, people showed no signs of being shocked, no signs of surprise, just the fear that came with something larger than you, a potential predator, being in the immediate area. As if it was something that occurred often and could be planned for, like a natural disaster.

Was something like this common in America? Were flying dragon monsters the norm?- If so, why wasn't it more heard of in Britain, you would think that something like this, if it was known to the muggles here, would also be a big deal to those in the UK.

He supposed that it might be because either the wizards were controlling the knowledge, or the muggles were, or that even because the muggles are interested in it, it would be against the interest o f wizards to be interested as well, because to many wizards, muggle politics and modern day news were something to be ignored. It could never potentially affect them, and was inferior to the might of wizardry.

If that was true, this arrogance could lead to serious problems in the future. But it wasn't his problem right now, he was focusing on his own life and his own problems for a change.

He turned his gaze back to the horizon, it seemed that they would be traveling for quite a while longer.

-Arizona-

He never knew that the US was so large, it felt like they had crossed several different biomes over the course of the last few hours.

This one however took his breath away. Red sand milled through the air, and dunes sifted and repositioned themselves. Rocky crags painted the background, lifting their sparsely grassed peaks to the bright blue sky. Not a cloud was in sight, and there was no grass. No water, it was hot and dry, and the air wavered in the heat; distorted.

A helicopter pulled up beside his father (it was just easier to call him that, rather than his "father-not-father" or that "big fire breathing dragon guy" especially since he was still so confused on the topic) and a guy with weird white hair pulled up along side the head.

He had a blow horn. And seemed to know how to and enjoy using it to its fullest extent.

"BIG FIREBREATHING LIZARD! YOU ARE VIOLATING AIR SPACE AND TREATY AGREEMENTS! LAND NOW SO WE CAN HAUL YOUR STINKING ASS BACK TO PRISON! IF YOU DON'T, I'LL BE FORCED TO KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO KINGDOM COME. "He paused, and a thoughtful look crossed his stern face, "YOU KNOW WHAT? KEEP DOING WHAT YOU ARE DOING, I WANT TO KICK YOUR ASS!"

Belloc just ignored him and dove out of the sky right for the desert floor. Harry was totally unprepared for him to breathe a stream of fire at it, and entirely didn't expect it to open up and the darkness swallow him whole.

All he heard behind him was, "YOU COME BACK HERE! WHAT AM I GOING TO TELL MARGARET, HUH?!"

The darkness was all encompassing.


	8. Chapter 8

**He had a blow horn. And seemed to know how to and enjoy using it to its fullest extent.**

"**BIG FIREBREATHING LIZARD! YOU ARE VIOLATING AIR SPACE AND TREATY AGREEMENTS! LAND NOW SO WE CAN HAUL YOUR STINKING ASS BACK TO PRISON! IF YOU DON'T, I'LL BE FORCED TO KICK YOUR ASS BACK TO KINGDOM COME. "He paused, and a thoughtful look crossed his stern face, "YOU KNOW WHAT? KEEP DOING WHAT YOU ARE DOING, I WANT TO KICK YOUR ASS!"**

**Belloc just ignored him and dove out of the sky right for the desert floor. Harry was totally unprepared for him to breathe a stream of fire at it, and entirely didn't expect it to open up and the darkness swallow him whole.**

**All he heard behind him was, "YOU COME BACK HERE! WHAT AM I GOING TO TELL MARGARET, HUH?!"**

**The darkness was all encompassing.**

"

**I do not own firebreather.**

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><p>In case anyone was wondering about when in the story of Firebreather and Harry Potter this takes place in, it takes place after Order of the Pheonix, but before Half Blood Prince. And in Firebreather, it takes place after the party, but before Homecoming.<p>

I had a LONG debate with The Hazel-eyed Bookworm about whether this timeline worked out with the Harry Potter-verse, including when dates about when prom usually occurs, time skips and what not; so hopefully it works out and makes sense.

In other news, both of my neighbors who are like grandparents to me, having no children or grandchildren of their own (and I not having any grandparents) were admitted to the Hospital on Christmas Eve and Christmas. The Grandfather first, and when we went to get him discharged on Christmas, we had to admit his wife. So, there we all were at the hospital, them severely dehydrated and with 100+ fevers, on Christmas. And the husband was diagnosed with mild dementia.

Great.

Plus, I am sick now too. *Sigh*

Ah…whatever. They are on the mend, and I have a chapter to write. So, here you go.

Enjoy.

(That was a bit of a note from when I wrote the chapter, so from the me of the now, Enjoy.)

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><p>This is what I have so far... I was having major writer's block, but I think I have fixed it.<p>

Prepare yourself for a change in POV.

Duncan was used to being the underdog, climbing from the bottom to the top, or in his case, to the realm of the not-so-nerdy. There were just some things that came with being in the realm of the scaled and orange skinned.

So the day of school that changed that was just like any other; the sun rained down heat and UV rays that felt heavenly on his skin. The bright light showed the waves of heated air undulating over the sun-bleached grass and sifting sandy dirt.

He just wanted to sit down, take his shirt off and let the heat sink in.

A shrill screech made him wince.

No such luck.

He had to scramble forward almost knocking some more lazily inclined students over as he sprinted to get into the school on time. He could hear their unhappy mutterings as he kept moving.

He couldn't afford to be late on his first day, not when he had promised his mother that he would be on his best behavior.

He pulled his jacket up, even though he knew he'd be looked at weird for wearing such a heavy jacket in this heat, but he knew his skin would be even stranger than any kind of habit of his. Plus, it was fall, and he could always say that he came from a hotter state than Arizona, like maybe Texas or something. Or out of country. Yeah, he'd always wanted to travel.

But even more than that, he wanted to disappear as the whispers finally started around him as he strolled by the assorted cliques and groupies in the hallway. He could just feel the rumors circulating, the jeers coming together like 1+1 in the heads of those football idiots on the right. He also knew that while they might be trying their hardest, they might as well pull out their fishing poles, because dimwits like them are only going to get fish.

Really, half the time the stupid jocks can barely come up with anything clever. Just things like "Doofus" or "Cream sickle", "Orangie"- _I mean Orangie?_ That is just plain stupid. And the only ones who managed to come up with something truly hurtful were the ones-

"HEY SPRAY-ON TAN!"

Like he hadn't heard that one before. But –hey- it was on the higher end tier of insults that he had heard before. Maybe he could expect something from these guys.

Turning around that thought went right out the window. _Mayyyybe not._

Brawny, muscled and undoubtedly handsome, they were the crème de la crème – when it came to football. But he could tell, whether it was the red letter F on a crumpled paper sticking out of the top of lead goon's bag, or slightly torn up and blood smeared knuckles, that he was not at the top of the pecking order when it came to academics.

Therefore, someone to stay away from, as the Neanderthal types tended to be rather unforgiving to those with differences. And he was DIFFERENT.

Which was something he hated about himself, all the secrets, all of the fear, the hiding, pain… all because of everyone else being afraid of him. Which made him afraid of everyone else. He just felt alone sometimes, that he had no one on HIS side.

Everyone had their own side to play for, Barnes, Belloc, even his own Mom! They wanted to choose for him, make them do what they wanted, have them be like them, or make him safe.

The last one was sort of okay, and a normal kind of thing for a parent to do- but it just wasn't HIM.

Everyone was vying and jockeying for his attention and loyalty, and he didn't want some kind of political maze, he wanted a normal, happy life.

Then a splayed hand made him stumble forward.

_At least these jerks never change._

If there was one good thing about the bullying, it was that it was a constant force in his life. Never changing, he hated it, but it presented some kind of normality in his life. Even if it made him get in trouble and regret making the promise to his mother that he would not pummel the argumentative meathead into the ground until his face was bloody and unrecognizable.

Deep breaths now, Duncan. No need to go apeshit crazy on some unsuspecting teenage McDonald's employees to be. That would just cement him further into the den of crazy transfer student-dom. He just wished that when his mother made him promise things like that, she would take into account how rather than him finding trouble as she assumed, it was more often that trouble came running at him from an incline where he could only stare as it ran fist first into him.

Rather like right now.

"Hey, little loser boy. I was talking to you."

Duncan only took a deep breathe before turning around with a sigh. And looked up into the face of the bully.

"Loser, I'm talking to you. Don't got anything to say?"

Stupid jock.

"What'd ya say geek?!"

_Ahhhh….. I might have said that out loud. Not good._

A whisper off to the side, -"Woah, the orange freak's only been here five seconds, and he already pissed off Troy…"

Oh, so he was the head hancho at this school huh? Not very intimidating, even with all of his lackeys. And why did they always focus on the skin?!

He leaned forward until his brown hair dangled into my face and his hand was roughly gripping the collar of my shirt as he roughly threw me into the wall. Wow anger issues.

"I said, Geek, What. Did. You. Say?"

_Not good for him._

"I _said_, because obviously you can't hear right you Neanderthal, and I quote 'Stupid Jock.' Now, if you'd be so kind as to let me go, I can't be late for class on the first day, and you are trying your best to make me late. Geeze, I've only been here like five minutes and they set the dummy squad on me"

He walked off, leaving a hoard of dumbfounded gazes behind him.

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><p><strong>Hope you enjoyed the chapter. <strong>

**XD**

**Review if you want :P**


	9. Chapter 9

**Welp. I am a failure of an author. This is the first time I have touched this story in a while. So, sorry to all those who are interested in it. I have a couple of chapters for you soon. So, sorry for being a procrastinating ass, and here ya go.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

**"He walked off, leaving a hoard of dumbfounded gazes behind him."**

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><p><strong>15 Days or So Later - Kenny Roger's House, Unknown Location:<strong>

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><p>He was feet away from Kenny's house…. And it left a lot to be desired. Not that he was judging or anything-because he totally wasn't the kind of guy to do something like that; but still…. It looked a bit neglected.<p>

How he was lucky enough to find this dump *cough* place in the middle of the Arizona dessert was beyond him. He just knew the general direction, and he had gone from there. It was really hot, but felt nice, and there was just a bit of a breeze for him to survive the walk. There was a weird looking bird circling above where he woke up though-were the buzzards making a move?

But hell. Did he even have the right to go in there and ask for help from some guy he had known for less than a couple weeks? Did he have the right to burden him with his own problems… when it was becoming oh, so, obvious that he had his own to deal with? Duncan didn't want to, and he wasn't even sure if he would help, not after what was circulating around the whole school by now.

How the freaky orange kid had gotten eaten by the giant fire breathing dragon-monster.

Kids ate that kind of crap up, he'd be lucky if the entire county hadn't heard it by lunch today. One glance at the sky later- hell. It was well past noon, they already knew everything.

So there was no point in delaying the inevitable.

Walking up to the door, he took a deep breath and put his hand up to the door and knocked. Someone was on the other side in a second, tugging it open. He had to weirdly hold in the knee-jerk reaction to tear the door off his hinges. It was strange, because it was harder to ignore than ever before. It was like his instincts, which had been in the back of his mind, had suddenly stomped their way to the front of his mind.

Or close to the front anyway.

"Ken!" He hissed "It's me, Duncan."

He heard a muffled, "Duncan-"

In a second he had his hand back on the door handle, he felt like he needed to warn his friend against what he had already most likely heard. His obvious change in appearance. And then there was the strange fact that he was walking around naked, save for a pair of pants.

"Before you open the door, you need to know, I look weird."

"Yeah, I know" How would he know about his change in appearance?

"I mean weirder than before…compared to this I used to look great; So, brace yourself."

The door slowly creaked open, he didn't say a word.

"Okay….You want a soda?"

Duncan followed him inside, amazed that he wasn't freaking out.

"So… you're not freaked out?" He was sure his surprise showed on his face, just a little bit.

"Not really." How could he possibly be not freaked out?- because if Duncan was a normal teenager, he would definitely be freaking out.

Ken turned the TV on, and it totally wasn't what he was expecting. But it should have been. His Dad's face was plastered across the small screen.

Oh. He should have expected this, but he had only considered the normal high school gossip grapevine. But his personal life would definitely be newsworthy. Even if the people who knew that it was his personal life could be counted on the fingers of one clawed scaly hand. Plus or minus one. Or a couple if you counted all the people under Barnes.

"Compared to that, you're honestly not that shocking." He kind of felt a bit offended, so what if the kaiju levels were red, the kaiju was his father! But it was a stupid feeling, and he quickly squashed it. It was probably a pride thing.

Plus, as soon as Ken started talking about his deep, personal connection with Isabel, he decided to drop the subject. Especially when he just dumped the cereal and it's bowl out the window like he did that every day.

The last day-night-whatever had been the weirdest he had had in a long time, with him waking unconscious and barely clothed in a desert and all, along with the fact that he would think he was hallucinating but for the jarring skin change.

Looking around the interior of the trailer, he felt a bit badly for bothering him… he knew Ken didn't have many friends, and it was obvious he didn't have much of a parental figure either. They talked about his dad, and Ken told him about his theory. Honestly… it was sad. He didn't know about all the evidence he had, but it really seemed like he was making the story up to feel better about what he would otherwise think of as being neglected.

He really didn't want to burst his big imaginative bubble; He didn't deserve that. So he humored him. Maybe, he would invite him over to his house, once everything calmed down. It was something that he, with all of his screwed up family life, had never had to deal with, and he was grateful for that.

Then the questions about the party started, and what he thought was, if he was right, jealousy and more than a bit of anger sparked in his eyes. He was definitely mad at him! But why? Oh, jealousy, right. That meant that he had a thing for Isabel? She was the only person of the opposite sex in the equation, so must be.

Time to backtrack. Fast. Friend or not, it was not a good idea to have one of the few people that knew his secret to be angry with him.

The phone rang, grating upon his eardrums, and Ken rushed forward to grab it. He couldn't help but wince when he saw that the excitement was all for someone who might never call. But he gratefully took the phone, and groaned.

How in the heck did they always know where he was, even if he had no gosh-darned idea?! So he had to say all the "yes ma'am's" and "no ma'am's" and try to get himself out of the hole that his god-damned father had gotten him into.

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><p><strong>Harry's POV- Day Before<strong>

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><p>Harry was getting kind of tired of spending all of his time underground. Sure, he didn't have to worry about all kinds of weirdos staring at him, but at the same time, large violent monsters weren't exactly the best company.<p>

He wanted what he was promised. At this rate, if he hadn't had his unfortunate accident he would've been a week or two his semester at Hogwarts. He could've been learning things to keep him alive! Here he was learning not to step on giant monster's metaphysical toes, and working on keeping himself from expiring of boredom. He amused himself by bouncing crystals off each other, and listening to the sharp clear 'ting'.

He'd tried magic on the crystals, but they didn't really do much but glow, and absorb it. Not that he could really do much, his wand, when he had found it in his pants leg (the pocket no longer existed), it was rather singed, and more than a little bent. He swore it was cross with him.

But irritable wand aside, his father came to him one day, and told him that his brother would be coming down. He was excited, nervous, and everything in between, but Belloc's next words drowned that perfectly.

"He doesn't know about you yet."

"Oh."

"So stay hidden, I have a plan, and it is necessary that he not know."

"Duncan-" right, his name was Duncan. A rather strange name, but _Americans_ were all rather strange as it was.

"Will be arriving with me in a few hours' time. When that happens, I want you to stay back, and watch. He isn't to the point, physically that you are, and this will speed him up."

"I thought I was supposed to see my mother and that you did'nt want to go against her wishes?!"

"Ahhh… She will see you. Just not now. I never told her WHEN I would be going to get you." And then he heard a muttered "She'll kill me as it is."

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><p><strong>My apologies to The hazel-eyed bookworm. <strong>

**Life sucks and sadly FF had to be put on the back-burner. I used to have days off with neither work nor school, but that changed, and I am lucky to get any sleep with the nuisance that is homework. So...please don't hate me XF.**


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